Zariarty
by LittleGingerBiscuit
Summary: (OC - Zara) Zara sees something that lands her in trouble with someone it's impossible to run from, and she's left with no choice but to join them. (Will be multi-chapter)


As the sky dimmed over the Strand, the doors to the pub burst open and several drunken women scuttled out on to the streets in search of refuge from the bitter cold. All around, streetlamp-lit pavements glistened with the raindrops that hadn't ceased to fall since dawn. Curtains were pulled closed over the windows of town-houses, and the last few cars trundled away down the tarmac road. Thick flakes of snow drifted gently on the breeze, melting instantly upon contact with the damp ground. The tang of metal and cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, coalesced with the delicate ashes spewing from chimney tops.

Zara had stayed out late that night. She had been with friends, though as it started to get dark, one by one they all decided to go their separate ways and head for home. Being a Sunday, they were committed to school the next day, so it made sense to turn in early and get some rest.

However, considering it was a longer walk back to the apartment in which Zara was living, she was the last to drift off. She wanted the walk, wanted to be able to enjoy the quiet streets for as long as possible before she was forced back in to a school full of loud people the following day. But she wasn't stupid, and she'd lived in London for long enough to know her way round the streets, so she stuck to dark back-alleys in order to keep off the main road. It was best not to hang around the entrances to pubs, if you wanted to avoid getting splashed with vomit from drunk men and women.

She was about halfway home when she heard it. It sounded like a strangled choke, and for a moment, she passed it off as another intoxicated pub-goer settling down for a night of sleeping in gutter. However, then it came again, as well as a scuffling on the wall directly in front of her. Currently she was standing in the middle of an alley that was separated by one thin, crumbling wall from another, narrower passage that led to a private council estate. And there was definitely a noise coming from it.

Rats? Rats were all over the place, especially around council estates, what with the amount of rubbish people left out in open plastic bags. Could be a rat, or maybe even a fox, perhaps something bigger. Stray dogs weren't uncommon in London, either.

But stray dogs didn't scream or cry, and that's definitely what she heard a moment later.

Zara knew that whatever was happening on the other side of that wall, it was none of her business, and she didn't feel like becoming another crime statistic in the already startling number. So she kept as silent as she could, shoes scraping ever so softly across the damp floor, as she pressed herself to the opposite wall to the one she'd heard the noise from.

When she reached the mouth of the alley, she was left with a choice. To her right was a dead end, the side of a building with no door. To her left was a footpath that would take her out of the council estate and back on to the main road, but if she chose to go down there, she'd have to pass the mouth of the second alley and risk being seen by whoever was down there.

But exactly what could she do, if not that? Sit in her alley and wait for them to leave? Scale the vertical concrete wall of the building next to her? No, she had no other option than to walk past them. It wouldn't be that bad, she just wouldn't look at them and she'd pass on her way as if nothing was happening, no matter what was really going on down there.

Slowly, she pushed away from the wall and took a deep breath. Cautiously stepping out of the safety of her alley, she turned and walked the few necessary steps to bring her to the front of the second.

And though she'd promised herself she wouldn't, she couldn't help but sneak a look at what was happening. But she instantly regretted it.

Pinned against the wall of the alley was a man, quite short but very fat in the stomach, with a red face and a bulbous nose. He was kicking and squirming, but it wasn't doing anything to throw off the man holding him there. He was tall and blonde and lean, with the upper body muscles of a soldier or some sort of fighter. He had a knife, which glinted in the moonlight pouring in from the mouth of the alley. There was a scar on his face, just along his jaw, and his eyes were hard and grey. Handsome, but not in an obvious way.

Standing beside the blonde man was someone much shorter, a man with dark hair and large brown eyes. He was dressed in a way that set him apart completely from the blonde man, wearing a smart dark blue suit as opposed to the heavy leather jacket and jeans.

"Sebastian, why won't he talk?" he drawled, and he was about to say something else when he glanced up and saw Zara standing in the doorway. The light glinted off Sebastian's knife and flashed in his eyes, making them appear dangerous and harsh.

The man shifted his weight from one leg to the other, effortlessly, as if he were bored. "Sebastian…kill him and drop him. We have a fan."

Sebastian sliced the fat man's throat without even thinking twice, removed his hand so the body slumped to the ground, and turned to see what his companion was talking about. When he saw, he grinned.

"Got it, James."


End file.
